Chapter 7 - THE GIRL WHO LEFT THE CRAYON MARKS
Mia was not crying.
Marco found that unsettling.
She sat in the back of the van with her hands tied loosely in front of her, staring at him.
He had expected screaming.
Questions.
Pleading.
Instead, she studied him.
Finally she said, "You're Marco."
He looked at her.
"Yes."
"Anna said you lie."
Marco almost smiled.
"Anna said many things."
"She was right about you."
His smile vanished.
Mia looked toward the darkened window.
"Are you going to hurt my dad?"
Marco did not answer.
"That means yes."
"Your father has hurt a great many people."
"So?"
Marco stared.
"So perhaps you should understand he is not a good man."
Mia shrugged.
"Neither was Tommy when he put glue in my shoe."
Marco frowned.
"What?"
"But Sister Teresa still says you're not supposed to hurt people just because they're bad."
Marco leaned back.
"You think this is that simple?"
"I'm eight."
Something about the answer irritated him more than fear would have.
The van stopped inside an abandoned freight warehouse near Pier Eleven.
Rossi men opened the doors.
Marco climbed out.
Mia was pulled down after him.
She stumbled.
Marco caught her arm.
"Easy."
She jerked away.
"Don't touch me."
Again.
Elena.
He saw it now.
Not only Dominic.
Elena too.
For a moment, a memory arrived uninvited.
Elena sitting in Dominic's kitchen nine years earlier, barefoot, laughing while Dominic tried to cook pasta.
Marco had watched them from the doorway.
He had known then.
Dominic would eventually choose her.
Not the family.
Not the empire.
Her.
Marco had called it weakness.
Now an eight-year-old girl looked at him with Elena's eyes, and he wondered for the first time whether he had simply been jealous of something he had never had.
"Put her upstairs," Rossi lieutenant Victor D'Amato said.
Mia was led toward a metal staircase.
As she walked, she dragged one finger along a dusty crate.
Then another.
No one noticed the piece of blue crayon tucked inside her sleeve.
She had taken it from St. Cecilia before the men grabbed her.
Sister Teresa had taught every child what to do if they were ever lost.
Leave signs.
Small ones.
Things bad people would not notice.
Mia snapped off a piece of crayon and dropped it near the first stair.
Blue.
At the top, she drew a tiny M on the railing.
Then another on the wall outside the office where they put her.
The door closed.
Mia sat.
And waited.
At 11:38, Dominic arrived at Pier Eleven.
Alone.
At least visibly.
His wounded arm had been bandaged.
Blood still marked the edge of his cuff.
He walked between stacks of containers toward Warehouse Fourteen.
No weapon visible.
Marco stood inside.
Victor beside him.
Seven Rossi men spread across the space.
Dominic looked at Marco.
"Where is she?"
"Safe."
"Where?"
Victor smiled.
"You're in no position to demand."
Dominic ignored him.
"Marco."
Something in his voice made Marco look away.
"She's upstairs."
Dominic's gaze flicked toward the stairs.
He saw it.
Blue wax near the bottom step.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
Then another mark.
A line.
Dominic's chest tightened.
Mia.
She had left him a trail.
Smart girl.
Victor stepped forward.
"This city has spent twenty years pretending you're untouchable."
Dominic looked at him.
"That's not true."
Victor frowned.
Dominic said, "People touch me all the time."
He glanced at Marco.
"Some even stab me in the back."
Marco's jaw tightened.
Victor raised his gun.
"Enough."
Dominic spread his hands.
"You wanted me."
"We want your docks. Your union votes. Your Newark lines."
"Then take them."
Marco turned sharply.
Victor stared.
"What?"
Dominic said, "Take everything."
Marco's eyes narrowed.
"You don't mean that."
"I do."
"You'd give up the organization?"
"For Mia."
Marco laughed.
But there was no humor in it.
"That's exactly what I knew you'd become."
Dominic looked at him.
"A father?"
"Weak."
Dominic smiled faintly.
"Interesting."
Victor frowned.
"What?"
Dominic looked toward the rafters.
"Nothing."
The warehouse lights went out.
Gunfire erupted.
Nico's team entered through the loading doors.
Rossi men shouted.
Dominic dropped behind a crate.
Marco fired toward the dark.
Victor screamed orders.
Dominic ran for the stairs.
A bullet hit the railing beside him.
He kept moving.
Blue mark.
Second landing.
Blue mark.
Hallway.
M.
Mia.
He kicked open the first office.
Empty.
Second.
Empty.
Third.
Mia stood behind the door holding a broken chair leg like a baseball bat.
Dominic froze.
"Dad?"
It was the first time she had called him that.
Not Mr. Dominic.
Not Dominic.
Dad.
He crossed the room in two steps.
Mia dropped the chair leg and threw herself into him.
Dominic held her.
Hard.
Too hard.
He loosened immediately.
"You okay?"
She nodded.
"They tied me but I rubbed it on the desk."
He looked at the rope on the floor.
"Of course you did."
"There's a man outside."
Dominic turned.
Too late.
Marco stood in the doorway.
Gun raised.
Dominic moved Mia behind him.
Marco looked at the child.
Then Dominic.
"Move."
"No."
"Dom."
"No."
The gun trembled slightly.
Below them, shots continued.
Marco's face twisted.
"Do you understand what I gave you?"
Dominic stared.
"Nothing."
"I gave you the city."
"You took my family."
"I made you powerful."
"You made me alone."
Marco swallowed.
"You would've left."
"Maybe."
"For her."
"Yes."
Marco laughed bitterly.
"And now you'll leave it all for that child."
Dominic glanced back at Mia.
"Without hesitation."
Something broke in Marco's expression.
Not anger.
Grief.
"You were supposed to be my brother."
Dominic looked at him.
"I was."
The words struck visibly.
Marco's weapon lowered half an inch.
Then Victor appeared behind him.
"Move!"
Victor shoved Marco aside and aimed at Dominic.
Marco reacted instinctively.
He knocked Victor's arm upward.
The gun fired into the ceiling.
Dominic lunged.
All three men crashed into the hallway wall.
Mia screamed.
Victor struck Dominic's wounded arm.
Dominic staggered.
Victor raised the gun again.
Marco grabbed him from behind.
"Run!" Marco shouted.
Dominic stared.
"Take her and run!"
Victor fired.
Marco jerked.
Blood spread across his shirt.
Dominic attacked.
One punch.
Two.
Victor crashed against the railing.
Nico appeared below.
"Boss!"
Victor turned toward the stairs.
Nico fired.
Victor fell.
Silence came slowly.
Dominic looked at Marco.
He was sliding down the wall.
Mia stood frozen.
Dominic crouched beside him.
Marco laughed weakly.
"Look at that."
Blood filled the corner of his mouth.
"I finally did one thing right."
Dominic said nothing.
Marco looked toward Mia.
"I'm sorry."
Mia's face remained unreadable.
"For what?"
Marco's eyes closed briefly.
"Everything."
He looked back at Dominic.
"The Rosses have another team."
"Where?"
"St. Cecilia."
Dominic froze.
Marco forced the words out.
"They're going back. Midnight. They think Teresa has copies."
Dominic checked his watch.
11:52.
He stood.
"Nico!"
Nico was already moving.
Dominic took Mia's hand.
"Come on."
She looked down at Marco.
"Is he dying?"
Dominic looked at the man who had betrayed him for seventeen years.
"I don't know."
Marco whispered, "Go."
Dominic hesitated one second.
Then carried Mia down the stairs.
Behind them, paramedics entered.
For the first time in twenty years, Dominic Moretti left Marco Bellini behind.
Not because he wanted revenge.
Because his daughter was holding his neck and another family was in danger.
May you like
Eight minutes remained before midnight.
And St. Cecilia was full of children who had nowhere else to run.
